


regrets

by towards



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Darkfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:24:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towards/pseuds/towards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>another durarara!! kinkmeme fill. </p><p>Shizuo Heiwajima had blood on his hands before he could multiply fives. After that incident he began to wrap himself in chains, restraining emotion until it felt like an entirely seperate entity from him. It isn't until he meets Orihara Izaya that the shell begins to crack - but Izaya has one fatal flaw. That silver tongue, that mocking voice. darkfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	regrets

It had been an accident. There was no denying that. The support structure of the bakery simply hadn't been strong enough to withstand the monsterous, uncontrolled strength that dwelt within the lean muscles of his body. 

Heiwajima Shizuo had killed a person at a young age.

When that person's life had slipped away, the kind woman who had greeted the Heiwajima brothers with more than a smile and a gift, when her blood had stained the white of Shizuo's shoes and he had realized that the person he had tried so desperately to save had been crushed by his own carelessness... the younger brother who had watched the scene said something snapped. Shizuo, always full of life, never restraining himself, had broken that day in some irrepairible, unchangable way.

When months later, after the trial, after the assignment to the school for dangerous children, Shizuo had asked his brother if he feared him - Kasuka had said no.

Because Kasuka could not feel fear. Shizuo had done that to him too. 

The ground did not shake when Shizuo strode through the streets. The skies did not split and rain down when he swung his makeshift weapons into the air, nor did the fires of hell freeze over when that empty smile spread across his face. The people who saw it simply stopped in their tracks and rerouted their paths, afraid of the scarcely human thing that was deemed well enough to walk the halls after only two years.

No one asked what happened while he was in there.

When Kasuka said his brother was "bad with people" he meant it. He could not feel emotions, Shizuo could not understand them. He watched people uncertainly from a distance, often asking what made a smile a smile and how that was any different from a frown. What made this person belong to that one? Why did that person look so afraid of him? Whatever emotions Shizuo felt were also smothered underneath layers and layers of restraint, until his strongest reactions were done under the guise of a cool, calm, and collected expression. 

Even as he was casually single-handedly destroying a car for honking at him to hurry up, Shizuo's face remained impassive.

He felt little. Sought to feel more. Acknowledged that he was alone, underneath it all. Longed for companionship while shoving it away without realizing it, without even trying.

Shinra was his friend because he wanted to study him. He knew that. Their friendship was strained, at best, with Shinra often invading Shizuo's space in order to watch something or other that his body did while Shizuo snapped a fist up and sent him flying across the room.

Shinra was also the one who had arranged that meeting.

Shizuo, this is Orihara Izaya.

"I don't like" his face, attitude, posture, expression "him."

And so it had begun.  
Shizuo swept his tongue across his lips, stealing away the last taste of powdered sugar, allowing it to slide under over the pads of his fingers and down the palm of his hand. Between the slots of his fingers, the world moved on, scarcely turning to look at the teen standing amidst the sea of unconscious, bleeding bodies. 

They watched from the safety of the school roof, both cringing faintly as the monster drew a leg back and slammed it hard into one of the prone bodies. 

"He's getting worse," Shinra muttered, index finger sliding his glasses further up his nose. The sun caught the glass, illuminating it and hiding the uncertainty from hs eyes. "He used to just walk away when things like this happened."

"An unleashed dog never learns, Shinra." Izaya's fingers curled around the thin, rusted railing. Another flinch. Shizuo had casually reached down and hefted him up, casually throwing him at the passerbys. "It only gets bolder."

The bleach blonde turned slowly. 

Izaya felt a thrill of fear rush through him as those cold, empty eyes fixed upon his own. 

Slender fingers closed around the knife concealed in his jacket. 

"And eventually, it needs to be put down."

-x-

Orihara Izaya refused to admit that he was afraid of the monster that masqueraded as a human. He covered it up with a bravado that most Hollywood actors would be astounded by, with taunts and insults and a cool, calm, and collected expression that betrayed none of uncertainty he felt inside. 

There was something about the way Shizuo looked at him that sent chills down his spine. There was something underneath that emptiness. Something dark and cold that lurked within the shadows cast by his long lashes, in the black, depthless pits of his eyes, and something cold and jagged about the gentle quirk of his lips. 

"I hate you." Shizuo had said chillingly upon their first meeting. But there was something under that. Perhaps it had been true at the time, but now he could feel those eyes watching him with something else. He could say nothing about Shizuo's intelligence - though his reactions were brutish and cold, there was something terrifying and coldly logical constantly running through his mind and everyone knew it.

He'll kill me one day. I'm sure of it.

The people that could stand to be in a room with Heiwajima Shizuo could be counted easily on one hand. There was his younger brother, his "childhood friend", and the man who had somehow ended up as his unlikely rival. It was no wonder that, with only three people who uttered more than an insult to him, Shizuo had a warped sense of affection. 

For Kasuka, it was simple. Kasuka was Kasuka, his beloved little brother - the ying to his yang. Shizuo would pull the very moon from the sky if it meant making his brother happy. Anyone who so much as looked at the younger Heiwajima was heading for a brutal, unhappy ending, lost forever in the depths of the Tokyo Bay. So rumor said - no one was entirely sure what had happened to the last person to mock the brunette boy's blank face.

Shinra was an excuse for social interaction. When they were together at any given time, few words were passed and their eyes never really met. Shinra talked at him, about him, but never to him and that was why he was nothing more than an excuse, or a place to run to when his fists were bleeding and a knife had been wedged between his ribs. 

... Izaya was different.

Shizuo hated everything about him. The slant of his eyes and the curl of his lips reminded him of a fox, or a cat, about to snap the neck of a bird. That dark hair seemed like it would be better were it slick with blood, rather than dark and smooth like an oil spill poisoning the world. He hated the red he wore, the flash of color always triggered something violent and primal somewhere in the depths of his mind and blanked out whatever brain function survived when he went angry.

Izaya brought forth feeling.

If it weren't for the fact that every time he opened his mouth, Shizuo's mind screeched to a blinding, agonizing halt and the world fell still, the demented young man thought that perhaps - they could be friends.

... Perhaps that was the wrong word.

In his mind, friendship was nonexistent. There were people. Creatures tied firmly to one another by threads of an unseen force, with relationships that were more fluid and never lingered within the confines of what was deemed 'safe' by society. Shizuo cared little for what most people deemed as normal.

After all, the reason he was like this was because no one had ever cared enough to explain to him what was right and what was wrong. They simply turned and fled in the other direction, while the man who could not feel pain walked along the narrow edge of society. Only vague thoughts flitted through his troubled mind, a question of what would happen were he to finally fall from that great distance, wondering if perhaps he could survive even a leap from a building, and eventually, even those were swept violently to the wayside as another chase began.

Shizuo thought, "perhaps if he didn't have that voice, he would be tolerable."

And when that thought entered his mind, the attention he payed to Orihara Izaya took a turn for the worse. 

Stroking the gold column of his own throat, a plan steadily began to fall into place.


End file.
